Krampus

by Brom

  BALDR, KRAMPUS THOUGHT, then said it out loud. “Baldr. That is his true name.”

  “Santa Claus?” Jesse asked.

  “Yes. His true name is Baldr.” There, it is said. After five hundred years his name again touches my tongue. He scowled, hating the bitter taste of the word. “Vernon, bring me the mead.”

  Vernon hopped up, brought over the flask. Krampus drank deep, trying to wash the bitterness away.

  “My grandfather, Loki, killed him once, long ago. Now I shall do so again.” He clutched the velvet sack. “So tragic, Baldr’s death. Fair and beautiful Baldr, beloved by all.” Krampus sneered. “Or so it is told, as I knew him not before his death. I learned of those events from my mother, Hel, queen of the netherworld. She would tell this tale and so many others as I sat as a child upon the steps of her throne. Her sweet words, accompanied by the woeful singing of the dead.”

  “What’s not to love about that?”

  Krampus squinted at Jesse. “You are being sarcastic.”

  “Naw.”

  Krampus gave Jesse a disdainful look, but continued. “She spoke that all in Asgard loved Baldr, the second son of Odin. All praised Baldr, so fair of feature and so bright that light shone from him, fair-spoken and gracious. She told that they spoke of his charitable nature, his benevolence toward the downtrodden, going on and on about this gentle champion of the woeful and dispirited until one wished to hang oneself.

  “But there was one not taken in by Baldr’s charm and beauty. Loki, being the king of all tricksters, was quick to recognize deceit no matter how fair the package. He saw Baldr for the fraud he was and took it as a challenge to expose him before all, especially Odin, as there was no love between the two. And the opportunity to bring disgrace and shame to the house of Odin was too great a temptation to resist.

  “His chance came when Baldr schemed to become more than a deity, but to have life and beauty everlasting. And to this means he spun a tale to play on his parents’ great love. He told his father and his mother, Frigg, of his recurring nightmares, dreams that spoke of his impending death. His parents, not able to stand the thought of harm befalling their most beloved son, fell into Baldr’s design. They traveled the nine worlds, sought and received an oath from everything in Creation not to harm Baldr. All, that is, but from a young, distant plant called Mistletoe, as Odin felt this weed to be too lowly and feeble to matter. And thus, Baldr gained his immortality.”

  Krampus snorted. “That is how the myths spin it, anyway. But myths are full of flowering fancy, and as much as I adore such tales, Hel told me the truth. Odin, being the great sorcerer that he was, concocted a spell and placed it upon Baldr. A spell that prevented any element of the nine worlds from ever harming him. Only the spell was contrived from the poison of Mistletoe, and thus, Mistletoe remained immune.

  “Once Baldr had this wondrous gift, he did not wait to show it off, encouraging all comers to amuse themselves by trying to harm him with weapon of their choosing. Mother told that he made great sport of it, reveling in the attention, that the other gods loved the game, and as Baldr’s popularity grew so did Loki’s determination to expose him.

  “Loki disguised himself as an old woman and tricked Frigg into revealing the secret of the Mistletoe. Armed with this knowledge, Loki sought out the plant and made from it an arrow, an alchemy of Mistletoe and ore. Loki took this arrow and the next time he found Baldr at play, he slipped in amongst the gathered crowd. There he found Baldr’s blind brother Hoor. He asked Hoor why he did not participate. Hoor replied that this was no game for a blind man. Loki presented Hoor with a bow and the charmed arrow, offered to guide his hand. Hoor was thrilled to have a chance to play and pulled the bow with great vigor. The arrow hit Baldr in the chest, drove deep into his heart, and Baldr fell down dead right there before Frigg, before Odin. It is said that the silence was deafening. Poor Hoor could not see their fearsome gazes and Loki could not bear it. Loki fled.

  “Odin’s grief was bottomless and he had Hoor slain for the deed.” Krampus shook his head. “I have always felt for Hoor. A pawn in a game of jealousy and spite. He carried the torment of killing his own beloved brother, then to be slain by his own father. Tragic indeed. Odin laid Baldr’s body to rest upon the great ship Hringhorni and set it ablaze. It is said that Baldr’s wife, Nanna, in her grief, threw herself into the flame to follow him into death.”

  Krampus took another swig. “But that was just the beginning, for Baldr’s spirit fell into Hel, into the realm of the dead where even the great Odin had no right of rule. Though Odin and Frigg sent another of their sons, Hermod, to offer ransom and beg Baldr’s release, my mother, Hel, would not give up Baldr’s spirit. And it is known but to a very few that Hel played games with Odin to distract him while Loki sought a confession from Baldr. Told Baldr he would be Hel’s slave, imprisoned until Ragnarok, unless he admitted of his scheme. Here is where Baldr surprised them, as he refused such bargain, chose to remain Hel’s prisoner, to spend an age amongst the dead before exposing his own deceit.

  “And that is how I first came to see him, as a prisoner in Hel. He was most curious to me as a child, this beautiful deity, there in his chamber with his dead wife. He looked such a desolate soul, appeared almost as stone. He would stand for days on end without moving, staring down into the bottomless chasms of the nether regions, listening to the songs of the dead and waiting, waiting, ever waiting for the end of the gods, for Ragnarok and its promise of freedom.

  “I questioned Mother, ‘How could one willing to make such sacrifice to keep his secrets truly be of low character?’ She laughed and said not to confuse pride with nobleness, and warned me not to pity him. But I felt this being had suffered his share. Even then, at that young age, I could see that Loki’s hatred and jealousy of Odin was at the heart of Baldr’s fate. And so I did come to pity him, and that, my friend, was the beginning of my undoing. For a bitter lesson lay ahead and it is that a serpent is always a serpent, no matter the guise. I had no way of knowing then that there would come a day when I would be unable to utter his name, that I would dream of his blood on my hands a hundred thousand times over.”

  Krampus started to tell more, to tell the rest of the story. He glanced at Jesse, realized the music man was asleep.

  Krampus let out a great sigh, tugged open the sack, peered into its murky depths. “Together we shall find Loki’s arrow. Together we shall kill Baldr no matter what guise he might wear.”

  Chapter Seven

  Naughty List

  Footsteps, heavy, stomping footfalls coming up the stairs. Jesse found himself in his childhood room. He was six, maybe seven years old, and it was Christmas. The banister was strung with tinsel and Christmas lights and they blinked and sparkled. A large shadow blocked out the lights as it marched up the stairs. “Ho, ho, ho,” boomed a voice, one laced with judgment and condemnation. “Have you been naughty, Jesse? Hmm? Have you?” Jesse began to shake; he tugged the covers up to his neck. Santa pushed through the door, his burly figure so massive he barely fit through the frame. He crossed to Jesse’s bedside, carrying a large sack, a blood-colored sack, slung across his shoulder. He stood there towering, looming, his tiny black eyes locked on Jesse as though weighing his soul.

  Santa rolled the sack off his shoulder and onto the bed. The sack was moving, as though full of dogs and cats perhaps. Jesse heard what sounded like muffled mewing and cries, but knew it couldn’t be, not coming from Santa’s sack. Santa shook his head sadly. “You’ve been naughty, Jesse. Very, very naughty.” Jesse tried to speak, tried to say that he was a good boy, but his mouth couldn’t form the words.

  Six hunched figures crept up behind Santa, glistening skin, dark as pitch, twisting horns protruding from their scalps and long red tongues lolling from between black teeth. They looked at Jesse as though he’d be good to eat.

  Santa loosened the cord and opened the sack and now Jesse could clearly hear the cries, and they weren’t from cats and dogs, but children, screaming and moaning a
s though in great pain.

  Santa jabbed a chubby finger at Jesse. “He is on the naughty list. Put him in the sack.” The devils all grinned, rubbed their long fingers together, and reached for Jesse.

  Jesse opened his eyes and found himself still in a room with six devils; their hunched figures silhouetted by the flickering glow of the potbellied stove. The church was dark and he realized it was night, wondered how long he’d been asleep. Something smelled foul; he sniffed. Blood?

  Jesse scanned the shadows and found huge, unblinking eyes staring back at him. He sat up.

  A cow, or at least its head, sat atop a chest, blood dripping down its tongue onto the floor. Whoa, he thought. Where’d that come from? He spotted a large steel wash tub against the wall. He made out a rump, flank, and two legs jutting up. Someone is gonna miss that cow. Something else was new: mistletoe, several piles of it. It looked as though someone had been whittling spikes out of the branches.

  He climbed to his feet, swayed, put out a hand to steady himself, still a bit light-headed from the mead. No headache, not like a hangover at all, just a slight buzz. His stomach growled. He hoped to find something to eat besides raw beef. He skirted around the mistletoe and came up behind the Belsnickels. They sat huddled around Krampus’s sack.

  “No, Krampus,” Vernon grumbled. “That’s not right.”

  Krampus held what appeared to be a black powder pistol. Jesse moved up for a closer look and noticed there were two swords, a shield, and an old, rusty revolver lying on the floor.

  Jesse squatted next to Isabel. “What’s going on?”

  Vernon answered, “We’re trying to get him to find us some acceptable weaponry. You know, in case, say, just by happenstance, a giant wolf or some other monstrosity should come along.”

  “He can pull anything out of there?” Jesse asked. “Not just toys?”

  Krampus nodded distractedly.

  Jesse agreed with Vernon, some updated weaponry would be very good to have indeed, and would certainly be in order when they stormed the General’s compound. “You need some automatic weapons. A few assault rifles would do the trick.”

  “That’s just what I was telling him,” Vernon said, not hiding his annoyance. “Modern weapons, Krampus. You’ve seen pictures of them in the newspaper.”

  Krampus raised his hands in obvious frustration. “It is not so easy as that. One must first know what it is one is searching for.”

  “Might be able to help,” Jesse put in.

  Krampus looked up at him, considered. “Yes, maybe you can. Come here.” He patted the floor next to him. “Sit.”

  Jesse came over and Krampus pulled the sack between them.

  “The sack finds what I wish. But first I must know what it is that I seek. And further, it is easier if the sack knows where to look. Easier and far less draining, and until I have my strength back, I must ration my efforts.”

  “Okay, sure. What do I do?”

  “You help me to seek. You are not of Loki’s bloodline, so the sack will not obey you. Thus we must work together. We both must hold the sack. You will think of a location and an item and I will direct the sack to obey.”

  “I know how,” Jesse said. “I used it before. Took a few toys out of it.”

  “That is not the same. You merely reached through a door that was already open.”

  “No, I thought of a certain toy and the sack found it.”

  Krampus raised an eyebrow. “That is indeed something. Perhaps there is a trace of Loki’s spirit in you somewhere. But still, that is not opening doors. You could never do that, not on your own. But it says something that the sack would hear you at all.” Krampus smiled. “That is good, it should make our task the easier.”

  “What-all are you looking for?”

  “Guns,” Vernon interjected. “Very good guns. Something that will punch enormous holes through giant wolves.”

  “Money,” Isabel added. “There’s things we’ll need to buy—things we can’t get with the sack. Least not until Krampus is stronger.”

  “Do you know of a place to find these things?” Krampus asked. “Keeping in mind the fewer doors I must open the better.”

  Jesse grinned. He did, he did indeed. He’d never actually been inside the General’s office, but once, when Chet left the door open, he’d caught a pretty good peek, and the thing that stuck with him was the safe sitting in the corner. It was an old-fashioned safe, nearly as large as a washing machine, with a large brass dial set into its front. Jesse knew for certain the General stored guns in there, had to be cash as well, and no telling what-all else. Sure would hate to steal from the General, Jesse thought. Be a real shame. “Oh, I know a spot alright.”

  “Good,” Krampus said. “Place your palms on the sack.”

  Jesse did.

  “Close your eyes and seek.”

  “Seek?”

  “Just close your eyes and it will come to you.”

  Jesse shrugged, closed his eyes, and imagined the compound, then the motor bay, then the General’s upstairs office. Nothing special seemed to be happening. Then Krampus laid his hands atop of Jesse’s and slowly the vision sharpened, details he’d never seen materialized. The safe sat in the corner. Jesse steered his mind toward it and the vision followed, it was just that easy, then he went into it and all was dark.

  “This is the place?” Krampus asked. “Inside the chest?”

  “Yup.”

  Krampus’s hold tightened and Jesse felt a slight charge.

  Krampus pulled their hands away. “It is done.”

  “That’s it?”

  “The sack responds well to you, Jesse.” Krampus looked at him kindly, almost paternally. “Maybe a touch of Loki’s blood does indeed run in your veins.”

  “So, I can just reach in there and take whatever I like?”

  “You can, but be aware you are putting your hand into that other place. Your arm and hand will be visible to anyone who happens to be near. This can lead to trouble, to loss of limb, to even being pulled into the sack, into the very place you are robbing.”

  Jesse hesitated. “But it is a safe. No one will be in the safe.”

  “No, so long as the chest is closed, no one can see you.”

  Jesse loosened the mouth of the sack, peered into its smoky shadows. “All right, here goes.” He inserted his hand until he bumped a wall. It felt right, like cold steel. He pushed downward until his fingers hit something hard, cylindrical. He grasped it, could tell by the weight it was a gun. He pulled his hand out, very pleased with what he found.

  A minute later he had three machine pistols, several handguns, one sawed-off shotgun, a couple dozen boxes of ammunition, and stacks and stacks of hundred-dollar bills. But there were more surprises in the General’s safe: an unopened bottle of aged bourbon; an assortment of pills—amphetamines, by the look of them; what appeared to be several grams of pure cocaine, not crack but the real deal; keys to who knew what; all sorts of contracts and promissory notes; an envelope full of Polaroids of some woman that looked an awful lot like Jesse’s third-grade teacher, Mrs. Sawyer, in her birthday suit. Jesse wrinkled up his face but didn’t stop until the safe was empty. It felt good to take something back from a man who’d stolen so much from him, and knowing he’d be using the General’s own guns against him made the act all the sweeter. He grinned at Krampus.

  Krampus grinned back. “You are enjoying yourself.”

  “It’s empty.”

  “Then we’re done.”

  Jesse looked over the loot, at the cash, at all the guns and ammo. He nodded and let out a deep breath, suddenly feeling drained.

  “You are weary?”

  “Need something to eat, that’s all.”

  “It is the sack. It takes a toll.”

  Jesse wondered just what part of him the sack had taken that toll from.

  “You should eat,” Krampus said, nodding toward the tub holding the beef.

  Jesse looked at the cow leg. He was just about hungry enough to
eat it raw, but figured roasting a few strips over the stove would suit him better. He hopped up and started over, caught sight of the cow head and stopped. “Hey,” Jesse called. “Is it possible to put something back? Back in the safe?”

  Krampus raised an eyebrow. “Yes, it is possible. Once the door is open it will stay open until I open a new one.”

  Jesse lifted the cow head by the ear and brought it back. “That safe belongs to the man that put this hole through my hand.”

  Krampus nodded, grinned, and held the sack open. Jesse dropped the head inside. “Jesse, you are certainly a man after my own heart.”

  ISABEL WALKED WITH Jesse along the gravel road, glad to be out of the moldy-smelling church. It was night and they were headed to a mini-mart called Pepper’s, which Jesse claimed to be about two miles back down on Route 3. They’d decided to walk instead of risking anyone seeing the truck or chance the vehicle running out of fuel. Jesse carried the empty gas can he’d retrieved out of the camper, gas being one of the things Krampus couldn’t pull out of his sack.

  “Man, what I wouldn’t give to see the General’s face when he comes eye-to-eye with that cow head,” Jesse said with a laugh. “Over forty thousand dollars gone. Poof! That man is just gonna pee himself.”

  Isabel shook her head distractedly, scanning the shadows, keeping an ear out for any suspicious sounds, any sign or hint that Santa Claus or the wolves might be near.

  Jesse gave her a light shove. “Hey, c’mon, it’s funny. I’m telling you. You gotta understand that man’s the biggest son of a whore in all of Boone County. Hell, maybe in all of West Virginia.”

  Isabel managed a smile. She liked it when he looked at her, liked his green eyes, the line of his jaw, but most of all she liked his laugh—kind and warm, and full of life. It’s nice, she thought, taking a walk with someone that’s not as ancient as the hills. Don’t hurt none that he’s easy on the eyes, she admitted. No, not one bit. She considered what it’d be like to hold his hand. It’d been a long time since she’d held hands with anyone. Not since her Daniel, and that had been over forty years ago now. But she knew this man wouldn’t want to hold her hand; she knew what she looked like now.